Under Our Skin

I just saw a great documentary called Under Our Skin, which is about Lyme disease.  I watched some of the extra features, and the director mentioned that people have called the movie a real-life horror film, which is what I was thinking.  It is very scary.  Lyme disease is very easy to get.  All it takes is getting bit by an infected tick.   Once you have it, you're probably in for a nightmare.  When you have Lyme disease, your body is being attacked from the inside by an aggressive, and destructive, bacteria.  The pain can be horrible.  You might have seizures.  It can affect your nervous system.  You might not be able to function nearly as well as you used to.  It can take over your life for the worse.
There is no cure for Lyme disease, and there is a major controversy surrounding it.  A small group of doctors came out with a report on Lyme disease.  Many people disagree with the findings in the report.  The report said there is no such thing as chronic Lyme disease, which seems to be absolutely false.  It also said that Lyme disease shouldn't be treated long-term, which is another thing that many people disagree with.  It is alleged that about half of the doctors who contributed to the report had a conflict of interest, because they stood to benefit financially from the results.  This report is also an excuse for insurance companies to refuse to cover long-term Lyme disease treatment, which many say is absolutely necessary.  What's even worse is that doctors who treat Lyme disease effectively (They are really helping people.) are being prosecuted.  These doctors' licenses are being suspended, and an insurance company sued a doctor for $100,000,000.  So if a doctor really wants to help a Lyme disease victim, he or she risks losing their license and/or being ruined financially.  Once again, in America, money matters more than anything: animals, people, everything. 
I remember, when I was a kid, a tick was found on my leg.  It had embedded itself into my flesh.  I cried as my stepfather used a knife to cut the tick out of my skin.
Another thing that pissed me off was this particular woman featured in the movie.  She had Lyme disease, but that didn't stop her from procreating.  She said that she had 4 or 5 miscarriages; at least one of them was confirmed to have died from Lyme disease!  I believe the baby was 18 months old when he or she died.  Eighteen months of pain!  This stupid, cruel, selfish bitch should be prosecuted for the murder of multiple children!  Even though she killed all those babies by passing her Lyme disease on to them, that didn't stop her from having another kid: unbelievably cruel!  It was so sad and infuriating to see her playing with her little boy, because she mentioned that he tested positive for Lyme disease!  She said that he's fine, and she hopes he'll continue to be.  What a piece of shit!  This is all part of why I've railed against biological parents so much.  I'm gonna consciously pass this horrible disease on to my little boy, and HOPE he'll be okay!  Fuck you!  Her fucking uterus should be removed.  She's a kid killer!          

Rough Week

 
I was so sure I wasn't afraid of death, but, apparently, I am.  I sort of tried to hang myself.  It didn't work out.  I felt so claustrophobic with that noose around my neck.  Also, I lack the engineering ability, or determination, to hang myself in my home (it seems).  If one is determined enough, one can hang oneself from a doorknob.  I suppose I'm not determined enough (yet).
So, as previously mentioned, jumping was next on my mind.  I walked to the bridge of death.  First, I prepared: not only online, but with a note and as far as what I had on me.  What if I almost jumped, but didn't, and, as a result, stuff I needed fell out of my pockets and into the river?  So I walked to the bridge and looked down.  It really would be a miracle if I, or anyone else, survived jumping from the bridge and onto the river rocks below.  I had doubts about being able to do it prior to arriving there.  But once I looked down, I was done.  The thought of falling that distance was so f*cking scary.  I walked home.
Since then, I've been thinking of other methods.  Although, all in all, today was a pretty good day.  They always start badly.  I hate waking up.  I really wish I could just die, peacefully and painlessly, in my sleep.  Again, exercise really helped my mood.  It can change things for the better.
So I'm alive for now.  I really hate my parents.  They thoughtlessly brought me into this world, and this is the sort of shit I have to deal with as a result.           

I'm Real

I'm the realest person I ever met.  It's not east being real.  Someone tries to make me laugh, I don't, and then I'm a jerk.  Most people will let the fake laughter flow to avoid awkwardness: not me.  I can't go along with this believing in god stuff.  I could just lie, say I believe in god and love Jesus, and then I'd be a part of this huge club.  But I refuse to lie about it.  I have depression.  I'm on antidepressants, but I don't think they are working any wonders for me.  I'm still depressed.  I had a scary thought.  Is there an antidepressant that exists that is strong enough to fool me into thinking that life doesn't suck?  I doubt it.  Everyday, I think about life.  Everyday I think that life sucks.  It  has been a lifelong study.  I keep coming to the same conclusion.
Being as real as I am can hurt your employment situation.  What if my boss tries to make me laugh, but I don't?  If he gets the chance, he might replace me with a fake laugher.  I've thought, plenty of times, "They aren't paying me nearly enough money to laugh at this bozo's jokes."  Obviously, being this real isn't good for making, and keeping, friends.  I'm currently not speaking to my best (human) friend.  I feel as though I've taken a ton of crap from him.  I don't even really understand friendship.  If I don't feel like calling someone, I won't.
I haven't been able to stop drinking.  I've been trying to drink less.  I just get so bored of being sober.  I don't care if it's bad for my health.  I don't want to live to be 100.  I'm not looking forward to my mind and body deteriorating (further than they already have).  That's what old age is: coming undone.  I took a DVD out from the library and popped it into the DVD player.  I had seen it before.  That's not the only time that happened.  That's a "senile" type of thing to do.  I'm losing my marbles, and there is no keeping them.
At this point, I no longer live for myself.  I don't want to live.  But I want to change the world, which is hard to do when you're dead.  I want to improve things for animals: especially those living under the cruel thumb of humans.  I want to convince people to adopt kids that already need a home instead of bringing more into the world.  At least I have 2 good reasons to live.